


Out where a friend is a friend

by gloss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Anal, Burning, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral, Piss, Public Use, Slapping, gaping, pinch hit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Bucky makes it through a public use service shift while Steve keeps a watchful eye.





	Out where a friend is a friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).

> [Title](https://playback.fm/charts/top-100-songs/video/1939/Gene-Autry-Back-in-the-Saddle-Again)

When they neared the court building, all dingy white in the morning gray, Steve hesitated. He'd been dragging his feet all the way, but now he stopped.

"You can stay here," Bucky told him. "I'll go on alone."

Steve tipped up his chin and swallowed so hard his sharp adam's apple bobbed. "No, I'm coming."

"Have it your way, but that's stupid."

"Maybe so."

"Maybe yes," Bucky said and hurried on toward the Borough Hall-Court Street subway station. They could've ridden here, but Steve wouldn't spare the nickels and, anyway, the last thing Bucky needed was another collar over stupid behavior.

The trestle was set up on the mezzanine, one flight down from the street. He was the first of the day; it was early enough that businessmen were scarce and the milling crowd was made up of night-shift workers and the jobless.

"Hold my stuff," Bucky told Steve as he stripped down. 

Steve was doing that angry-kitten look he got a lot, huge wet eyes and angry mouth, but he didn't say anything, just nodded and folded Bucky's clothes as he passed them over.

"The State of New York and Kings County thank you for your service," the bored municipal employee intoned. "Bend over, arms out."

It wasn't the most uncomfortable position Bucky'd ever held. The trestle's padding was ripped but intact and the cuffs on his ankles and wrists nice and loose.

"You bring anything?" the employee asked Steve.

Startled, Steve looked back and forth between the man and the toes of his boots. "Anything?"

"Slick," Bucky said to Steve, then turned his head to try to see the employee. "Nah, the usual will be fine."

"Your funeral," the guy said. He slapped Bucky's ass two, three times, and poured a copious amount of slick over the stinging skin. "Don't move too much, people hate this on their shoes. One lady slipped and broke her leg last month."

"Their safety's of the utmost importance," Bucky said and the guy must have heard something in his voice, who knows what, because he slapped Bucky again, ass, then face, before peeling open Bucky's open and jabbing three fingers in, then four, then everything with the thumb.

There wasn't any point to that, except to do it, Bucky figured. Just loosened him up, brought up spit and a little bile when his nails scratched soft palate.

"How is it?" someone asked from behind him. "The mouth?"

"Deep," the employee replied. "Fairly wet. Pretty lips."

They might have said more, but the employee yanked out his hand and sucked on it as he stepped back. A rotund man replaced him, hand in Bucky's hair to pull up his head, other on his short, fat dick to push it inside. He didn't have a rhythm, didn't say much. When he came, he pinched Bucky's nostrils closed and shot over his tongue until Bucky choked.

"Hey!" Steve yelled from far away, but nothing else. There was the sound of a scuffle, then someone prying apart Bucky's ass cheeks and hacking spit over his crack. Bucky saw black spots and undulating tiles while he tried to get his breath back. Another hack and hot glob of spit preceded the burning shove of dick against his hole. Bucky closed his eyes, wondered what kind of prayer Steve would make here. He breathed deep and slow, despite the friction, as the burn twisted inside him.

Three more men fucked his face while the guy back there took his sweet time rocking in and out, holding Bucky's hipbones in his hands. He hummed a little; whenever he got close, he pulled almost all the way out, like—what did he expect? Did he want Bucky to beg for it? _Please, mister, your lil pencil dick's just the best I ever got! Please please sprinkle me with your sweet sweet come!_ Never going to happen.

"Broke him in for you," Pencil Dick told the next one. 

This one was heavier, and leaned over Bucky with an arm wrapped around his chest. He fucked in short, intense jabs that sent red light spinning before Bucky's eyes; his belt buckle jangled and hit the inside of Bucky's thigh on every downstroke. This one groaned as he came, murmured something in a language Bucky didn't know, and sprayed all over Bucky's lower back.

He had six hours here. He could make it, he knew that. Just had to wait it out. He wasn't so sure about Steve.

It was just after a pretty, thin woman had her skirt hiked up to her waist and her cunt pressed against Bucky's face that he caught a glimpse of Steve. She did something, jerked his head too far as she smeared herself over his chin, and his vision wheeled. A stripe of the station, commuters lining up for turnstiles, the low wooden bench scored with generations of peoples' initials and declarations, and right in the middle of the bench, Steve. Clutching Bucky's folded clothes to his chest and _staring_ at the trestle. If eyes could light fires, if the fury of one skinny kid could accomplish anything, it would happen here, this morning.

"How much for somethin' extra?" a youngish man in high-waisted trousers and sharp-toed shoes asked. "Anyone?"

No one answered. The man shrugged and unzipped his fly. Bucky opened his mouth, still tasting the lady on his tongue, but the guy actually stepped back. He wasn't hard. He was holding his dick like it was an accessory, a satchel or umbrella. 

"Swallow, bitch," he said and at first Bucky didn't understand, but when the piss arced toward him, he did. He understood just fine. It tasted hot, like bodies and sweat, and he got some of it down.

"You're disgusting," Steve yelled across the station.

"C'mere and say that to my _dick_!"

Bucky wiggled his ass. His head was heavy, his hands were starting to wink in and out of numbness.

"Please," Bucky said, his voice alien and flat to his own ears, "plenty of me for everyone, let's not make a scene."

Two friends, their voices squeaky with excitement, took him like a chicken on a spit. A matronly lady in a faded flowered dress put her cigarette out on his shoulder blade while her other hand worked up under her girdle.

His mouth was gooey with piss and come and spit, the corners of his lips bruised and torn. His asshole was somehow on fire but at the same time colder than the goddamn Yukon. Come oozed down his legs. He tried to clench for the next guy, experimentally, like pinching off a turd, but something inside him was rubbery.

"It's a good pussy," that guy said as he drove in and slapped Bucky's ribs like he was racehorse. "Sweet red pussy."

"Yeah, sure," Bucky mumbled. He was bored; everything hurt but nothing was _interesting_. The day wasn't getting worse, it was just stretching out. 

"Suck it all up, pussy."

"Oh, yeah, so good," Bucky said and rolled his eyes. 

It wasn't for another couple hours, past the insanity of rush hour, when things quieted a bit. The fare collector took his turn, puffing on a stogey while fucking Bucky's ass mechanically.

"My turn," Steve said, and Bucky looked up through the sweat blearing his eyes. Little Stevie Rogers, blond as an angel, chin quivering stubbornly as he stepped up.

"Hey—" Bucky tried.

"You have to take it," Steve said, voice loud and false, like Bucky wasn't the one who needed convincing. He jerked down his fly and bent his knees and grazed Bucky's swollen lips with the head of his cock.

_Not so small in the pants, huh?_ Bucky thought and started to smile, but Steve cupped his palm against Bucky's cheek and pushed in. He kept staring down, lower lip going white in his teeth, and rocked up on his toes, then eased back. 

He tasted like Ivory soap at first, maybe a little Pond's cream, but pretty soon he just tasted like everyone else. He moaned like a little birdie when Bucky clenched his throat and swallowed, then widened his eyes when Bucky caught his gaze and lifted his eyebrows.

_Harder,_ Bucky meant.

Steve shook his head, but his body was working on another set of instructions. His hand on Bucky's face scrabbled nails into Bucky's hair and thumb into Bucky's mouth alongside his dick. His dick pushed deeper, and deeper yet, and soon enough, Steve's own mouth looked like a blow-job perfect **O** as Bucky worked his throat and took his cock and groaned, just for him.

"Hurry up, kiddo," the municipal employee said. "Service shift's over."

Steve's balls bounced on Bucky's chin and his other hand grabbed for Bucky's hair.

"I'm good," Steve told the employee. "Mean to enjoy this."

Bucky choked, and kept choking, and Steve just got bigger.


End file.
